


Women Seem Wicked

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Paranoia, Psychosis, about the whole 'daisy being an inhuman' thing, because we never really got that explained, just exploring a way that fitz couldve started not trusting jemma, takes place in 2x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: Of course Fitz trusts Jemma. She's his best friend, always has been. She'd never hurt Skye, he knows this.But there's a little voice in his head telling him he's wrong. He's not sure what to believe anymore.





	Women Seem Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt: "If you would, would you write something focused on Fitz and his paranoia? I thought I was interesting the way the show touched on it and I wish we could see more of how he works with it" 
> 
> not sure if 'works with it' is the best way to describe this fic but i've honestly just wanted an excuse to write something like this for a while so

“Shut up, shut _up_ , just—” Fitz pinches his eyes closed, breathing steadily in and out, in and out through his nose.

For a moment, Jemma is quiet.

Fitz supposes her shouldn’t call her ‘Jemma’ anymore. There’s probably a more suited name for the specter that’s been haunting him these past weeks. It’ll be too confusing if he still calls her ‘Jemma’, now that the real one is so suddenly back in his life. He should come up with a different name. Not that he’s ever been good at naming things.

“I’m just saying, Fitz,” the hallucination says quietly, “she’s changed.”

Fitz holds out a hand, willing her to stop.

She doesn’t.

“She left, Fitz, and she came back different. And now she’s saying all these things, things she never would’ve said before. She’s not the same person she was.”

Fitz blinks his eyes open, mouth gaping around empty words. Finally, he manages, “I- I am, too. Different. I’m …”

“Yes,” she says, hard, “and she knows that. She knows you’re different. You can see it in how she acts. She’s been treating you strangely, haven’t you noticed?”

Fitz stares firmly at the computer screen in front of him, still running Skye’s bloodwork. The percentage bar is almost halfway full, and he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do. About any of it.

“You can’t trust her.”

That makes him look away.

“Wh-What are you on about?”

“She’s not the same anymore, Fitz. She’s not your friend anymore. It’s not her. It’s not me.”

“Well o-of course it’s not _you_ , y-you’re just—” He taps on his head, a little harder than necessary. “-in here.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know that. But your brain made me up from memories of her. I look like her, I act like her. And I’m telling you, I’d never act like that. I’d never say those things. And _she_ shouldn’t be, either. There’s something wrong. There’s something off.”

Fitz looks away. “She’s my friend. My best friend.”

“She _was_. But I don’t think she has been for a long time now.”

His eyes water, and he brings up his hands to rub against his eyelids, trying to force the feeling away. “Shut up.”

“If she was your friend—your _best_ friend—would she have left? Would she have left just like your dad did?”

“ _Stop it,_ ” Fitz grounds out.

“If she cared about you, she wouldn’t have done that. If she cared about any of you, she wouldn’t have left.”

“She … She was on mission, she—”

“She took that mission to get away from you.”

Despite his best efforts, the tears escape from behind the palms of his hands and trickle down his face. “She didn’t.”

“She did. Why else would she have? Why else would she have lied about it? She told you she was visiting her mum and dad, when she was really out there, meeting with who knows what kind of people, probably doing horrible things while she was undercover. Maybe it just … stuck with her.”

Fitz shakes his head. “You’re wrong, you’re …” The words stick is his throat.

“You saw on the security feed all the things she’s been saying about Raina. Would she have acted that way before all this?”

“She’s scared.”

“She is. She’s terrified.”

Fitz reluctantly looks at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’s met with her steady, piercing gaze.

“And you know exactly what people can do when they’re scared, don’t you?”

Fitz bites his tongue, and looks away.

He wants to believe that she’s just messing with him. But he’s worried that that part is winning him over. “You-You’re just—” He waves his hand. “You’re trying to get into my head.”

The hallucination makes a strangled noise and drops to her knees beside him, startling him, and raises a hand to grip his forearm. He can feel it and not feel it all at once. “I’m trying to _protect you_ ,” she says, practically begs for him to understand, to believe her. “That’s all I’ve been doing all this time, Fitz, and you know that, and you know I’m right.”

“You—” His lips quiver, tears running salty into his mouth. “You _can’t_ be right, y-you just …”

“Fitz,” she says, practically breathes, eyes watery as well, and it’s so quiet, so impassioned, so _real,_ so _her_ , that he can’t help but rip his arm away and stand out of his chair, pacing to the other side of the room. He lifts his hands to squeeze against his ears, the breath hiccupping out of him.

The computer beeps. Ten percent left, that’s what that means. He doesn’t have much time.

“The way she’s been talking …” she says, and he can hear her just fine even past his hands. “Imagine what she would do if she found out about Skye.”

“Skye’s her friend,” Fitz says gruffly.

“She _was_. But we don’t know if that’s true anymore, do we? We don’t know anything about her now. We don’t know who she is or what she’s capable of.”

“She’s _Jemma_.”

“She’s not. _I’m_ Jemma. She’s some … some imposter.”

Fitz breathes, in and out, in and out, through clenched teeth. He doesn’t want to believe any of this, but it feels futile arguing with his own brain. The logical side of him is saying it’s not true. The logical side of him is saying it is. The loyal side of him is saying she’s still her. The loyal side of him is saying he needs to protect Skye. The emotional side of him is saying he needs to understand where she’s coming from. The emotional side of him is saying he’s hurt, and she’s why. All of him is saying he’s scared, and confused, and lost. He doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

He hiccups again, and removes his hands from his ears so he can wipe his face and his nose. Slowly, he turns around.

“What do I do?”

The hallucination nods at the computer screen. The results are done. There are changes in the DNA, it’s flashing on the screen in red letters.

“You need to protect Skye.”

“I know.”

“You need to cover for her. Lie, do whatever you have to. No one can know about this.”

“No one?”

“You don’t know who you can trust.”

He looks down, and wipes his nose again. “What if you’re wrong?”

She sighs, long and weary. “Then I’m wrong. But isn’t it better safe than sorry?”

“I feel …”

She waits for him to continue.

“I feel like- I- I …” His fingers twist at his sides. “I don’t know.”

“The only person you can trust right now is yourself.” She raises her shoulders a little, open and innocent. “And that’s me.”

He stares at her. At the cut of her hair, just how she’s always kept it. At her blouse, the one he was there to help pick out. At the shape of her jaw, her nose, glances up to her earnest eyes. She’s right. She’s Jemma. Just how he remembers. Why did he ever doubt that?

“I trust you.”

“This is for your own good, Fitz.”

He walks over to the computer, quickly reads over the results, and then loads them up on his tablet. He deletes the evidence of change and copies over the results from Skye’s last blood test.

“And Skye,” he says.

“Skye’s, too.” She watches him. “What are you going to do?”

Fitz leaves the room and starts walking down the hallway, then before he knows it he’s jogging back to the med bay. The hallucination isn’t with him, but she always sort of is, pressing against the back of his skull. He slows as he rounds the corner, and takes in Skye’s panicked face, and the heavy presence of May and Jemma, with a resigned air.

“F-Fitz—” Skye starts.

“Fitz was a klutz again,” he cuts her off, approaching them. “Uh- She’s cleaning up the mess. Sorry. It was my fault.”

He meets Skye’s eyes through the glass of the quarantine chamber. He glances at Jemma, who’s looking back at him, wide eyed, then glances away.

The weight of a hand settles on his shoulder.

He did the right thing. He’s sure of it.

Now if only everyone else could see that, too.


End file.
